


Metallic

by Trickster_Angel



Series: Sense [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Gen, Purgatory, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_Angel/pseuds/Trickster_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean remembers what he left in Purgatory, his mouth tastes metallic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metallic

His mouth tastes metallic.

Of course it would. When the blood of monster after monster sprays on you, your clothes, and sometimes in your mouth, well, of course it’d taste metallic.

Dean can’t remember the last time he’d bothered to wipe the blood from his face. A long time ago, when it happened too fast, when he’d clean it one second and have to wipe again the next, well, it got to a point where he doesn’t bother anymore; just wears the blood like a badge of honor. A show of the kills he’d made. A source of pride. And a clear marking to the other monsters to stay far away.

***

The thing about Purgatory was that you can’t care. You can’t care that your clothes are filthy and covered in blood. You can’t care when you get injured, just clean it up and keep moving. You can’t care if the odds are against you in a fight, you can’t run for long. You’ll lose if you don’t fight.

You can’t care that the sun is gone, the reason you can see is some sort of artificial light that you can’t track back to a source. You can’t care that there is no shelter, that it is endless miles of forest, that nothing can stop your smell from enticing the monsters to come closer. And closer.

And Dean can’t care that he can’t rid himself of that metallic taste. It doesn’t matter what he eats, there are no edible plants so he’s reduced to eating the muscles of the monsters he kills, it doesn’t matter what he drinks, there are rivers but no rain so he doesn’t have a choice as to what he drinks, it never goes away.

He feels like a vampire, jokingly says that to Benny, who corrects him immediately, saying that blood never tastes metallic once you’re a vampire. Not that Dean really cares about what it tastes like to a vampire, but he listens to Benny describe it anyway, although the best description he got was, “It’s indescribable.” Sometimes it was enough to just pass the time.

But that metallic taste makes him feel like a monster, closer to the things he had no choice but to kill, kill or be killed, and he hates it. The metallic taste starts to rip away his humanity, force him into this, creature, this being controlled by id, nothing but the barest human instincts, eat, sleep, kill.

***

 _Whoosh_. A head bounces on the ground. Dean wipes werewolf blood out of his eyes, wishing he hadn’t gotten any in his mouth this time. The metallic taste is driving him crazy.

“Not this time,” Benny says looking around them, expecting more monsters to come but none do. Dean spats, hoping the taste of blood will go away but it doesn’t. It never does.

“We’ll find him,” Dean replies, looking at the head, kicking it further away, just because he’s pissed. Pain blossoms in his foot but he ignores it. One more sore spot isn’t going to kill him.

Alastair had taught Dean many things, things he’d hoped he’d never need to use again, but have used anyway. Alastair was one example. Purgatory was another. Dean and Benny would kill, (like a machine) and Dean would torture the last one alive, putting all his skills to work, “Where is the angel”. And Benny would just watch as the man transformed into something else, the id taking control. Before the monsters die, they tempt him, whispers of the angel, and always, Dean ends up disappointed. This is no different. Another dead end.

“Maybe Dean, he’s not alive,” Benny tells him bluntly in that Southern drawl.  But Dean scoffs a little, forces a smile, dried blood chipping, and says, “No, he’s alive. And we’re gonna find his feathery ass.”

Benny just shrugs, because he doesn’t believe it, thinks this to be a waste of time, but follows Dean anyway, because Dean is his ticket out. And that was another thing Dean doesn’t care about, because caring what Benny thought wouldn’t save Castiel.

***

Sometimes, in those rare moments when Dean could sleep, he’d see Castiel. It was the same place, that first night in Purgatory, the day he’d stabbed Dick with the bone and stood too close.

He’d look at those red eyes watching him, his blood would turn to ice, but Castiel was there, and they’d gotten through worse shit before so they can do it again.

But before Dean can finish the thought, Castiel is gone, and Dean is left alone to face the monsters on his own.

Benny sometimes asks what disturbs Dean in his dreams, but he either gives a sarcastic reply or tells him to fuck off. Eventually, Benny stops asking.

***

 _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ echoes in Purgatory. It bounces off the trees when they are utterly alone. It made Purgatory seem even bigger. More endless.  Dean finds it eerie, but never mentions this to Benny. So he keeps whistling, and Dean pretends he can’t hear it.

Until they fight.

Then, the tune is bait, drawing monsters in, a pattern to kill. Another head gets lobbed off, another monster ganked. Blood flies and Dean’s mouth tastes metallic.

In the off beats, when the monsters run, Benny whistles. The sound makes the adrenaline rush, the body shifts to survival mode and Dean isn’t human anymore, just human instincts in a body, fighting to live past this battle.

The tune hits a climax and Dean fights, taking blows and giving them, until (“Where’s the angel?” The monster laughs and Dean gives it a reason to howl. “I don’t know”) another monster head rolls. And the human reverts back to being human and the hurt comes back as the adrenaline fades and the whistling decrescendos into Benny’s voice.

And Dean still doesn’t know how to find Castiel.

Benny doesn’t understand why Dean is so anxious to find his angel. They’re getting a reputation, monsters whisper of them in the dark, the vampire and the human, looking for an elusive angel.

But this is Castiel, (“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition”) and he’s Dean’s friend, and if nothing else, Dean won’t leave his memory in Purgatory. Even if he’s dead, “He’s not dead”, Dean will find him.

***

Purgatory is pure.

It’s nothing more than survival, no thinking involved. The superego is pushed to the furthest reaches of the brain as the id takes control, you only need to survive, no moral question there.

Even the ego goes, Dean is stripped of all that is Dean, and is now this, a blood coated hunter, a hunter in the purest form of the word.

Blood stains his face, blood mats his hair, blood colors his jacket, his jeans, his boots, his shirt, a nice dull brown color. His makeshift knife is blood stained. His hands are hopelessly dyed red (‘Out! Out damned spot!’ Dean doesn’t remember where it’s from, only the quote). If there was even a ghost of a chance he could get into heaven, it’s long gone now.

Dean doesn’t consider anything beyond necessary. It’s only about survival, eating, sleeping, killing.

So he wonders why he thinks about Castiel so often. Then Benny tells him to stop thinking, just fight, pure adrenaline and blood.

Maybe Dean needs to fix his priorities. Survive first, find Cas later.

Maybe Purgatory isn’t pure enough.

***

And when they find Cas, Dean is amazed, simply amazed. Benny told him Cas would be dead but he’s not, he’s standing right here, in dirty scrubs that had once been white, and the trench coat that’s covered in mud and dirt. Castiel has been dyed brown as Dean has been dyed red.

Ironically, they find him by a river, which makes Dean a little twitchy, but just seeing Castiel alive, makes him happy enough to ignore it.

They embrace and Dean is content, for the first time since they entered Purgatory together. Finally, something has worked, they’re together, and the ego shines through. Dean becomes Dean again.

“I ran away.”

And Dean learns how he’s been betrayed, that Cas left Dean to fight on his own, left Dean to turn into less than he is, a ghost of the man on Earth, and he can’t believe it. Benny knows. Castiel knows. Dean won’t buy it. Can’t buy it.

“I prayed to you Cas, every night.”

“I know.”

Of course he knows. Of course he’d listen. Leviathans aren’t worth leaving him. This is his friend. They’re supposed to go through this together. And they’ll get out together.

“I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to keep them away from you. That’s why I ran. Just leave me, please.”

Benny loves to hear this, as now Dean’s major distraction will be gone, the reason he’d can’t turn as pure as everything else. But Dean won’t hear of it. If they fight, they’ll fight together, and all three of them will get out.

So Castiel comes with them.

***

Purgatory is pure, except for the colors. They are all muted, dull grays, browns, and greens are the only colors he really sees. Dean thinks Benny’s coat is blue, but it’s been muddied and torn and dyed in blood so he can’t be sure.

Dean’s own clothes are like this too, muddy and bloody and torn to the point he’s pretty sure his jacket was brown but isn’t certain anymore.

The sky is gray, from what Dean can see through the tree lines.  The water is clear and the river is brown from the mud. The trees are leafless, the bark is dark brown, almost gray, and the ground is dark green or brown, depending.

Even the monsters are muted. Their clothes are all like Dean’s and Benny’s, the colors of mud and dried blood. Red hair looks brown and blond hair looks gray. The colors are so monotone; it’s like a bad painting. Dean wishes it was a dream.

Eventually, his eyes adjust to the colors of Purgatory, so that Castiel’s eyes are something different to view, a bright color compared to the world he’d learned to live with. 

***

Dean sits watch as Castiel sleeps. Benny went to hunt something, he didn’t elaborate and Dean didn’t ask. He assumes it’s going to be Benny’s dinner. Even vampires need to eat in Purgatory.

It’s dark. Dark enough to be midnight. But there is no moon; there are no stars, just like there is no sun. It’s just pure blackness and trees.

Dean’s eyes have adjusted; he can see the minute movements that are monsters. Together, Dean and Cas look like the main course, the feast these monsters have never seen before. Yum. So he looks around, waiting for one of them to be stupid enough to try to take them. And that’ll keep them away for a little while.

Dean inhales the air of Purgatory slowly, letting it flood his lungs before exhaling it back out. “Are you coming?” he wants to call, but that would wake Cas, (Dean doesn’t even know why he’s sleeping, he’s an angel) so he doesn’t.

He has his knife in hand, ready to attack if necessary, but it isn’t. They don’t come. The id knows when not to pick a fight. These monsters know they’ll lose.

Dean swallows painfully; he knows he’s dehydrated. Eat, sleep, kill.

The metallic tang on his tongue remains.

***

Some things are like Earth. There’s night and day, or at least, dark and light. There are the endless miles of forest, there’s water and some sort of sun. There are animals, mutated, freaky animals, and plants, fucking weird plants, but plants.

But mostly, there’s blood.

***

Sometimes, there are eerily familiar faces. Dean sees Gordon hunting him out of the corner of his eye. Madison is stalking him, hungry for his flesh. Amy is hiding in the tree line, waiting to exact her own revenge on him. Lucy is still pleading in his ear, “You’re crazy.” Emma is laughing at him, running behind him to breathe on his neck and run away, too fast for him to see.

He turns, assuming he’ll have to fight another battle. Behead another monster. Another spray of metallic blood. But there’s no one there, and either Benny or Cas’ll tell him to keep moving. He’ll linger for a moment, hear a high pitched giggle or see a streak of a creature moving too fast for his eyes to focus on. But he has to guess that if Gordon or Madison or Amy or Emma or Lucy were there, Benny and Cas would know. And they’d fight. So Dean just assumes he’s paranoid, that this is the way his superego escapes him.

Maybe they’ve already died here. It’s been years since he’s seen Gordon or Madison, and how long could Amy or Emma or Lucy survive alone? Lucy was probably dead ten seconds after she arrived. He tries to reason with himself, but then he sees brown hair in the wilderness or hears “Daddy, help me.” And then it’s not long before he’s watching the shadows to see if they move with him.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice makes him snap back. They’re staring at him, they’re confused. “You'll ‘right brother?” Benny asks, more concerned that it’d be two against the world than for Dean’s mental health.

“Fine and dandy,” Dean says, though the emphasis is behind the right words, it sounds wrong. It sounds like he’s lying. Benny turns to keep walking.

“Dean.” Cas’s monosyllables are enough to express his concern. “I’m fine Cas,” he replies, putting a hand on the angel’s shoulder and walks ahead.

But it’s not long before the ghosts come back again.

***

Dean can hear the whispers of the monsters. He hears his name, and Cas’s and Benny’s. But he has to assume, like the ghosts, it’s just his brain being paranoid, his superego needing some exercise before it explodes.

The whistle of the wind is “hunter”. The rushing of the stream is “angel”. And the sound of twigs snapping is “traitor”.

Mostly, the voices say, “Human”.

                                              ***

And when Dean is free of that prison, when he’s on the road, hunting with Sam again, just like old times, sometimes those ghosts don’t fade.

He hears whispers in the television, sees monsters stalk him on a hunt. He knows Sam watches him, waiting for him to either spill his guts or explode. But Dean has enough control to do neither.

***

The memories of Purgatory weren’t the worst part. It was what he left behind in Purgatory.

***

When Dean remembers what he left in Purgatory, his mouth taste metallic. 


End file.
